VTM:B Oneshots - The Prince's Dream
by psytronix
Summary: The Prince of Santa Monica shares her dream with a man she's been thinking of since his arrival in her city... Smut, Fem!LaCroix/MaleProtagonist. This was a small part of a series I'll never begin.


A/N: I will now be taking commissions.

Yes, the lucky 3 people who get in first can ask for a 1000-word oneshot from yours truly, for free! This will go over every month, and 3 newer, luckier peeps will be able to have their own 1000 word oneshot!

It can be anything – but no yaoi, sorry.

Just ask for the fandom, your pairing, and a brief idea of what you want down.

It can be pure fluff, or pure smut. Remember, it's only 1000 words!

…Though to be honest, I doubt those spots will even get taken… Enjoy!

* * *

"Can you… Take a guess, as to why I brought you here?"

The air was thick. Even to the ancient dead, stolen blood flowed, and stolen blood made the hairs on the backs of necks stand straight.

"I can. I'd still like to hear it from you." She faltered in her words, but the resolution in his voice was final.

He knew what he wanted.

"As you were no doubt being courted by those Sires of yours, I… I had a dream." She, a Prince, no-

 _The_ Prince of Santa Monica, so openly sharing of her personal matters…

To him, she was unprecedented. Selfish. Cold, and uncaring. A vestige and a relic of a more savage humanity that'd we hoped we'd left behind.

400 years his senior, and yet her full, voluptuous body and short stature made her seem so small and insignificant to the night life.

To her city, her princedom, she was nothing to be crossed. A vengeful force, hell-bent on proving herself in the eye of a city that mocked her rule.

"A dream?" He breathed out.

To her, he was a nobody. Brash, loud, rude, and smitten with the wrong crowd.

A newborn thrown into a tank of sharks. And in that same regard, he was more human than the rest of the dead city of Santa Monica combined.

"Yes… As the morning settled, and the sun came down, I… I saw _you._ " She stressed.

He held back a snide comment. Her presence choked and dominated his, even though physically she was impish in comparison. Though it wasn't fear that kept him quiet.

Where others had laughed and parodied her rule, he remained in support of her.

In public, anyway.

Casey, whether LaCroix knew it or not, went by many other names.

The Puppet Master.

The Lord of the Underworld.

The King-In-Shadows.

King sounded nice. He was King to her Prince, in more than just title.

Out from under her button nose, he'd built an empire in the shadows. As the Prince had her subjects, a Sheriff, and those willing to do her dirty work, the Lord of the Underworld had his own, too.

Strays, the Lost and the Damned, and Caitiff. Those who weren't skilled in the fine arts of Camarilla shop talk. Those who couldn't hunt to stay dead amongst the living.

Their "King" gave them blood, rooms without windows, and _purpose_.

Their "Prince" had given them the cold shoulder.

From man to woman they hated what the other stood for.

From Prince Sébastienne Lacroix, to his foolish ideals about supporting the thin-bloods, and his incessant complaints as such.

From King Casey West, to her almost nihilistic revelation in her own status as a Prince, at the expense of her princedom.

"It was in the hours before I was informed of your…" She continued, trying to find a word for the event that kick-started Santa Monica's upheaval.

"Siring." He finished for her, thinking of moving place.

A sharp glance back at his direction silenced that possible movement.

"Yes…" She drew close to him – her presence further strangling his.

In her bedroom, as gaudy and lascivious as it was, Casey's eyes halted their movement, as well.

He was fixed on her.

"…Caine… Appeared to me. He stood behind you, smiling…" LaCroix choked the name of the Father out.

It was unlike a Camarilla member to utter his name, even in passing.

"I looked upon you, and I was… Blinded by sunlight." She went on, her body quaking slightly as she reminded herself of the warm sensation.

Casey's heart would've stopped if it was still beating.

But it wasn't, so he settled for a dumbstruck look. Her right hand caressed his inhumanly warm face. Her body, hidden to him by means of a regal suit, played her intentions well.

Her face was stunningly emotionless, however, as if trying to gauge Casey's reaction.

"You came to me, not by chance, but by… Caine's will. You were brought to me, for…"

"For a purpose." He finished, curtly.

A twitch of a smile on the edge of her lips.

"Yes…"

She felt drawn to him. With every unsure step she took towards him, her fears melted away.

His body was stuck as he felt a shy kiss plant on his lips.

Warmth.

God, how she missed it. As quickly as she brushed her lips against his, they were off, and she simply stared at him.

Direct line of sight. As if she were about to _actually_ Dominate him.

"You… You know that I'm…" He begun, his words faltering as her stare bored into him.

He was taken. Spoken for. Enthralled by lord knew how many others.

"I know. For tonight, just be mine, Casey... G-… Grant me the release I need…" Her words became quiet and dishevelled as she brought her body closer to his, closing her eyes and ensnaring him tightly.

"I… I don't want flings, LaC-"

"Call me… Call me 'Basti…" She interrupted him.

"…"

There was every fibre in his being saying "fuck that", and "no, no, no, GOD no".

But he felt for the Prince. He loved her, like he loved so many, despite their conflicts.

Despite her sending him suicide missions.

Despite him ashing her Sheriff.

Despite her setting him up with a place with windows, where the sun could cook his flesh.

Despite him turning half of the cities' Kindred to his side.

"…I want you to p-pretend, just… Just for one night, that… That you love me." She whispered.

Despite all that, she loved him, and he, her.

"I don't have to." He whispered back, with a tiny chuckle.

And he was upon her, his lips at the soft, supple nape of her neck.

She made a sound of surprise, and for a dashing moment, she could've felt her dead heart _beat_. Like an unheard of Discipline, Casey exuded inhuman, or non-vampiric warmth. It flowed off him like water, and LaCroix was only too eager to embrace herself within it.

With her thin arms around his waist, he lifted her from the ground and gently walked her over to her grand bed, lying the sandy blonde beauty down. His lips left her skin, a tiny mark on her otherwise perfect, pale complexion.

She looked up at him, flustered, and brought him downwards for a kiss.

Casey was hunched over the woman possessively, like a wolf claiming its prey. His hands wrapped around her lithe frame and ground her body against his. Heat poured off him in waves onto the Ventrue vampire, and in his tight grip, she writhed as blood flowed to her nethers.

Their lips broke, and she whined and mewled into the man's grip.

A shiver was sent down Casey's spine, which he ignored, and he moved his mouth back to the girl's neck, as he undid her suit's top, teasingly. Her cheeks flushed red with rich blood, and he smiled to her, stopping his soft gnawing of her nubile flesh.

He looked to her, simply staring for a while as he was positioned above her.

"'B-'Basti…" He breathed, quietly, staring into the woman's faded blue eyes.

Her sex quivered at the mention of her name, and like a virgin for the very first time, she continued to writhe around as Casey exuded his dominance over her. As quickly as he had her top off, his was gone, as well.

Through light kissing, Sébastienne had brought so many repressed memories of her time back in the 1700s she spent with her suitors and lovers.

She was no prude, and no stranger to it, no sir.

But… It had been some time.

Yes, normally vampires wouldn't even _think of_ the act when they heard the term "pleasure". Supposedly blood was _the_ ultimate pleasure for the undead.

For the city of Santa Monica, however, things had change with Casey's siring. Powers were shifting and beliefs were being uprooted, especially for some unfortunate Camarilla folk.

And a man like Casey had enjoyed sex _more so_ than when he was a human. The blood was alright, and getting a good fix felt nice, but making love was beyond compare. Even with his undead partners, they felt the surge and re-ignition of their human desires.

The Beast, for once, became quelled with the act.

Sébastienne's body ignored the insatiable need for blood, and her mind became focussed on becoming one with the man above her.

She stared deeply into his blue eyes, and smiled back to him.

"T-Tell me… T-t-tell me that y-you l-love me, C-Casey…" She hushed out, rocking her hips against his lewdly as Casey continued to disrobe them both.

His grin grew, and he obliged, whispering the words into the ear of the Prince as his hands snaked their way around her...

Oh.

Another surprise.

The Prince of Santa Monica, former lieutenant of Napoleon's Army, Mistress of Domination, was…

Sopping wet. With an ashamed blush, she turned her face away from Casey's, and he continued on with their disrobing. Soundlessly Casey removed his boxers and her panties – a pair of frilly black things.

And he was upon her again, biting softly into the woman's neck.

"Mmmmmph, 'Basti…"

"Ooooh, my… C-Casey…"

She grinded her dribbling cunt into his cock, her face flushed into oblivion. He played with her, teasing every inch of her skin, yet returning always to the slowly forming hickey on her neck.

"C-Case-Casey, please…" She pleaded with the man above her.

He smiled down to the ancient vampire, and loosened his grip slightly. She dug her nails tightly into his skin, preparing herself for their union. Casey slipped himself inside the Prince, a harsh moan escaping the elder vampire's lips.

The man's body seized in pleasure, and he locked himself as not collapse on top of the currently squirming woman beneath him.

"F-Fuck, 'Basti…" He groaned, shifting his hips backwards a little, and nudging his head further inside the Ventrue.

"O-o-ah! Th-t-t—t-there! R-right there!" Sébastienne cried, his tip brushing inside her, against her pulsing pussy. Catching on, the mixed-blooded vampire above her began bucking his hips softly.

And he began panting. Blood that wasn't his – wilfully taken from his former Ghoul, fuelled his otherwise walking corpse. Innately the man didn't need to use his blood to appear human.

The Blush of Life came naturally to him.

For a brief moment he was alive again, and as an extension of his will, his partner was, as well.

Sébastienne's breaths were unprecedented and daunting at first – as for the first time in hundreds of years, she felt _human_ again. Her body continued shaking and convulsing along Casey's tender touch and throbbing thrusts.

Her nipples had quickly hardened as one hand feebly pawed at her lover's broad chest, alighting her body like tiny jolts of electricity as they brushed over his.

Casey's thrusts quickened, and his hips slapped into hers faster and faster, her pussy conforming around his, massaging the length as if they were meant to be as one.

She knew what was coming, and her body prepared for their man, calming herself slightly so that his lovemaking could continue, rather uninhibited. A knot formed in her stomach, as well as his, and they hugged the other as tightly as possible.

"O-o-oooh, by G-God-AH!" She screamed, a lone hand digging into her lover's back.

"Ffk!" He grunted, releasing inside the woman. And as that last bit of warmth flourished inside her, another scream echoed through the Venture Tower.

Their bodies shivered, and shook. Sweat poured down from Casey's frame onto the Prince's, the scent further arousing the still jittery French woman.

LaCroix's mind was in a blur, and the Prince found herself swimming in the wake of her own release, revelling in the pleasure and warmth that she'd been given from the lover atop her.

As if sensing her next move, the King played first, and lovingly met the woman's lips with his own.

Just as the Prince had dreamed.

* * *

A/N: Oooooh! Was she dreaming about telling someone about a dream all along, or did the Prince have the same experience as her dream?

For real though, I wrote the thing in mind that the Prince is simply comparing the experience to her dream. To me, it's real. To you, you can interpret it how you want it.


End file.
